Between the Adventures 5
by The Inner Genie
Summary: Yeah, but what do they do the REST of the time? Please R


BETWEEN THE ADVENTURES 5  
  
Well, they can't have adventures EVERY day!  
  
Disclaimer: NO money was made. NO copyright infringements intended. NO kidding.  
  
Vignettes By The Inner Genie  
  
-------  
  
The Idiot 12/26/03  
  
-Curtain opens-  
  
-"John, you are an idiot,"- Lord John Roxton thought to himself as he sat at the wooden table in the living area of the treehouse. -"Get her out of your mind, old boy. The woman is nothing but trouble."-  
  
He shook his head at his folly and tried to keep his eyes on the bits and pieces of his pistols he had spread out on an old cloth on the table. It was no use, though. His eyes rose of their own volition and locked on the scowling face of the beautiful, dark-haired woman who had funded the ill- fated expedition that had left them all stranded on this god-forsaken plateau for the last two months. She was storming back and forth between wooden crates filled with all sorts of rocks.  
  
As he watched, she stopped rooting through the boxes, planted her hands on her hips, and started berating the red-bearded scientist who was methodically sorting the stones into piles of some scientific order.  
  
"It has to in one of them, Challenger," she complained. "I only set it down for a moment and when I turned back, it was gone."  
  
"Really, Marguerite, I can't keep track of every rock on the Plateau," he muttered distractedly. He moved a rock from one pile to another.  
  
Marguerite's eyebrows drew together in annoyance. "It wasn't a rock, I told you."  
  
"Then you should have no trouble spotting it, my dear," Challenger said maddeningly.  
  
"Arrrggg!" she bellowed and kicked over the right hand pile of rocks.  
  
-"You see, she has a really nasty temper,"- the handsome hunter reminded himself, but the corner of his mouth couldn't help curling up in an appreciative smirk at her open reaction to the older man's arrogant attitude.  
  
"What was that for?" Challenger asked, thoroughly annoyed. He frowned up at Marguerite and said bitterly, "Now I'll have to start sorting all over again."  
  
Marguerite looked down at the scattered pile and shook her head. "You might as well start over. You've got some of them in the wrong pile, anyway."  
  
Challenger looked taken aback. "How do you know how I was sorting them?" he asked belligerently.  
  
The heiress shrugged. "I assume you're looking for minerals that are triboluminescent, since the pile you're so closely guarding contains different feldspars."  
  
The scientist narrowed his eyes. "That is correct. I have an idea how I can make fireless torches for exploring caves." He looked down at the pile he was guarding and then glared up at the dark-haired woman. "I don't know what you mean by the wrong pile. I believe I know feldspar when I see it."  
  
"Oh, I didn't mean the feldspar was in the wrong pile." She bent down and picked up several of the scattered rocks and held them out for his inspection. "However, sphalerite and lepidolite are triboluminescent, too, and you've put some lovely specimens of both of them in the discard pile."  
  
Challenger leaned forward and looked carefully at the proffered minerals. He stroked his reddish beard and cleared his throat. "You may have a point, Miss Krux. I hadn't realized just what those were. Of course, I would have noticed in time, I assure you.but, thank you just the same," he ended grudgingly.  
  
The handsome hunter grinned broadly and had to stuff his cleaning rag into his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. -"She's brilliant, I'll give her that,"- he thought. -"Even Professor Summerlee rarely catches Challenger in a scientific misstep."-  
  
He looked over at the beautiful woman and caught her looking at him. They grinned at each other in a rare moment of perfect understanding.  
  
Quickly hiding her grin, Marguerite spoke querulously to the older man, "That's perfectly all right, Professor. I'm happy to help the cause of science any way I can. Now, if you'll just move out of the way so I can look under your chair."  
  
She stooped gracefully and with a triumphant bark, pulled a small brown box out from the corner behind Challenger's chair. Anxiously, she carried it over and set it on the opposite end of the table from Roxton. She breathed a sigh of relief as she opened the box and lifted out a beautiful little lavender blossom. Cupping the flower in her palm, she gently straightened a tender leaf that had gotten folded over in transport.  
  
Roxton leaned forward to get a better view, and then he sat back with a curious look on his face.  
  
"Isn't that the flower Summerlee was asking Veronica about the other day, Marguerite? She said they were very rarely seen around here."  
  
Her usual mask of bored indifference slipped over the heiress' face as she shrugged her shoulders. "I found it and thought I'd bring it back for Summerlee," she said off-handedly. At the amused look in Roxton's eyes, she dropped the flower back in its box and replaced the lid.  
  
"It was very thoughtful of you," the hunter said softly.  
  
"It was nothing of the sort." she rolled her eyes."anything to stop his incessant chatter about it. The man doesn't know when to let a subject drop."  
  
Roxton looked at her thoughtfully. -"So this selfish, self-centered woman has a hidden kind streak, eh. What other hidden virtues does she have, I wonder? Miss Krux, you may be a mystery worth exploring."-  
  
Marguerite carelessly dropped the box on the table and asked him to give it to Summerlee.  
  
"Yes, Your Highness," Roxton said mockingly, bowing at the waist. He picked up the little box and then watched her walk away. She flipped her long, curly hair away from her neck and her hips swayed beguilingly as she walked. He felt his heart beat a little faster. He licked his lips. She was beautiful.  
  
-Yes, you are a right old idiot, John Roxton,"- he thought to himself.  
  
-Curtain closes-  
  
-------  
  
Waking Ned Malone 11/1/03  
  
-Curtain opens-  
  
Anticipation was running high among the inhabitants of the jungle treehouse. One person paced back and forth across the balcony stopping every few paces to stare out over the jungle below. Another sat on a chair a few feet away sharpening the treehouse knives; his heart lighter than it had been in a long time. A third whistled as he stoked the kitchen fire, coaxing the dry logs into glowing embers. The firelight picked out scarlet highlights in his red beard giving color to his happy face. The beautiful gray eyes of the fourth person kept straying from the sewing in her lap to the handsome man at the grinder. Every once in a while, her tongue would dart out and lick her lips in anticipation. The fifth person, his blond hair combed very particularly, had his back to the others. He sat at the table hunched over an opened book seemingly oblivious to the mounting excitement, although, if carefully observed, he could be seen occasionally hunching his shoulders and squirming in his seat.  
  
The excitement had started four days ago. Everyone was moping around the treehouse having no energy to do anything constructive. Supplies were low and lunch had consisted of only a handful of bananas. The drought was in its second month and the plants and vegetables were scrawny and tasteless. Roxton had had to go further and further up into the mountains to hunt and even then the most he had been able to bring back were a few burrowing rodents. The Explorers were hungry for protein. Veronica and Roxton had been sitting on the balcony when Roxton noticed the mirror flashes shining through the trees on the far hill. He wrote down the message and would have thought nothing of it, if Veronica had not been looking over his shoulder. It was she who deciphered the code and ran to find the scrape of paper so carelessly used as a bookmark. The others came running over when they heard her squeal.  
  
"He's won! He's won!" the jungle girl had shouted.  
  
It turned out that before leaving the Hagen village after the Scorpius meteor shower, Ned Malone had been accosted by the Hagen Literary Society. The Society was trying to increase the number of literary works in its collection by giving out lottery tickets in exchange for a story, or a poem, or even, heaven forbid a memoir. The only work in its archives so far was a round-robin penned by the three members. So, when they learned that a professional writer was in their village, nothing would do but to entice him to contribute. Luckily for them, Ned had just composed in his head a small ode to meteors that he was only to happy to write down and donate, figuring that at least one of his literary efforts should be read by an appreciative audience. The lottery prize didn't interest him very much, but the grateful members insisted that he take the ticket. He had told only Veronica about it, sensing that the some of the others might find it amusing. When they got back to the treehouse, Veronica noticed that he'd uncaringly used the small scrape of paper as a bookmark.  
  
When Veronica had calmed down enough to tell the other explorers what had happened, they were all as excited as she. The lottery prize was thirty pounds of smoked boar meat and forty pounds of produce-a family sized meal for the hardy Hagens, but a good month's supply for the thrifty treehouse gang.  
  
Another mirror message was sent back immediately to the Hagens saying that the message had been received and asking how soon the prize could be delivered. The answering message said the three members of the Literary Society would deliver the prize to Ned, or as they called him "our esteemed benefactor," in four days, and that they were anxious to renew their acquaintance with him. Well, that answer sent the explorers into a tizzy, since the blue-eyed journalist was currently unavailable. Much soul- searching and discussion ensued, until Marguerite pointed out that the prize would be shared by all of them ultimately so it wasn't really cheating for them to accept it in Ned's place. Challenger countered that if the Society meant it for Ned alone, they might not hand it over to the rest of them. Roxton said that they couldn't take that chance since they were practically starving. Veronica opined that they couldn't risk turning the Hagens against them. They could be a formidable enemy. It was finally decided that a harmless deception was the only solution. A plan was decided on. If it was Ned they wanted, then it was Ned (or a facsimile there of) they would get.  
  
Now, four days and many schemes later the Explorers and their stomachs were anxiously awaiting the arrival of the Hagen Literary Society.  
  
"They're here!" shouted Veronica rushing in from the balcony.  
  
"All right, everyone, places. Let's not lose our nerve. Remember what's at stake," Challenger said nervously. "Ready, "Ned?"  
  
Everything went very well. The members of the Literary Society were thrilled to present Ned with the meat and produce. They were a little taken aback by the change in his appearance but were reassured to learn that Americans were noted for their chameleon-like qualities. The Explorers faced a shaky moment when "Ned" was asked to recite the winning ode, but his sudden and particularly disgusting coughing fit soon had the Hagens in the elevator and on their way back to their village.  
  
"We did it!" Challenger whooped.  
  
"We eat tonight!" Roxton crowed.  
  
"I'll do the cooking." Veronica grinned.  
  
"I insist," Marguerite grinned back.  
  
A tall, green form arose from the chair at the table and said grumpily, "If you don't mind, I'll take my share of the winnings and be on my way." He threw the blond wig on the table. "I don't know how you people stand this fur on your heads, and as for these pants.why they're riding up in places I never knew a lizard had."  
  
-Curtain closes-  
  
-----  
  
Color Me Purple?  
  
10/12/03  
  
-Curtain opens-  
  
"John! Where are you?" Veronica Layton called as she walked into the tangled jungle not too far from the treehouse.  
  
"Over here, Veronica. And please keep your voice down. I don't want any unexpected visitors." A calloused, though well formed hand reached through the lush foliage that screened the great hunter's camp from casual view and motioned for the jungle beauty to enter between two bushy shrubs.  
  
"What are you doing hiding out here?" she asked after she'd squeezed through where a stream marked the narrow opening that led into the small clearing. Her eyes took in the interesting collection of things strewn about. Several wooden buckets sat around the perimeter of the campsite, and stacks of plants, roots and all, were lying here and there. A sheet of white, muslin-like material was spread over some bushes on the far side. A small fire was burning next to the stream. Suspended just above the flame was a black and battered kettle bubbling merrily. "And what are you cooking?"  
  
A strange, tangy aroma permeated the clearing.  
  
"That's why I asked you to meet me here, Veronica."  
  
"You wanted me to cook something for you?" she asked puzzled.  
  
"Yes! Well, no, cook isn't exactly the right word."  
  
The jungle girl sighed. "Maybe you'd better start from the beginning and tell me what's going on."  
  
Roxton began to pace back and forth. "You remember the other day when we were all doing our laundry down by the river?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Do you remember that Marguerite had put a pan on the fire to heat water to wash her clothes in?"  
  
Veronica sighed with exasperation. She hadn't a clue where this was going. "I was there, Roxton. I remember everything."  
  
"Right. Then you remember how a spark from the fire lit some of the dried grass near the trees, and..and I.um.grabbed up some cloth and beat it out?"  
  
"Yesss," Veronica answered patiently, deciding to humor him. "Quick thinking on your part." She grinned. "Of course, when the cloth caught fire, Marguerite was the quick thinker who threw it in the river."  
  
"Ah, yes, Marguerite." Roxton clamped his mouth closed and scratched the stubble on his chiseled jaw as he ruminated on that thought.  
  
Veronica's patients ran out. Her smooth tan brow wrinkled in a most unaccustomed manner and she put her hands on her hips.  
  
"John Roxton, if you don't tell me what's going on right this minute, I'm leaving."  
  
Roxton looked beseechingly at her.  
  
"Didn't you notice what that cloth was that I so cleverly used to put out the fire?"  
  
Veronica rolled her eyes. "No. What? Challenger's favorite vest?"  
  
"Worse," his lordship told her. "Much worse. It was Marguerite's blouse." He paused dramatically for the payoff. "Her LAVENDER blouse."  
  
"Oh." Veronica stared in shock at the handsome hunter. "And you're still alive?"  
  
Roxton nodded his head up and down vigorously. "Yes, you see, that's the worst part." He ran his hand through his dark locks. "My body parts should be strewn all over the Plateau by now, but, Veronica," he spoke slowly so the import of his words would sink in. "She didn't say a word."  
  
"What!  
  
He nodded his head again. "That's right. When I realized what I had done, I tried to apologize, but she patted my arm and smiled at me. SMILED AT ME! I felt terrible."  
  
"Okay. So Marguerite let you off the hook, what does all this have to do with that?"  
  
"She was so sweet, Veronica. So understanding, you know." He looked around the clearing at all the paraphernalia scattered about. "I've decided to make her a new lavender blouse."  
  
Veronica had to choke back a laugh. "But.but, Roxton," she sputtered. "you don't know how to sew. And, besides, where are you going to get the lavender material?"  
  
Roxton grinned proudly at her. "I've got the sewing thing covered. I asked Assai if anyone in her village could sew if I provided the pattern and the material. She said there is a remarkable seamstress there who would be happy to sew for me. I'm giving her one of my silverback hair brushes in trade. I've found that I really don't need three."  
  
Veronica nodded. "I know the woman, she sews all the feathers and beads on King Jacoba's clothes, but I wouldn't want her sewing..well, never mind. I'm sure she'll do a great job." Veronica paused. "What about the lavender material, Roxton. Jacoba doesn't go in for pastels."  
  
Beaming, Roxton waved his hand over the clearing. "That's what I'm taking care of now."  
  
Then, his face fell. "I'm not having much luck getting a lavender color, though. That's why I asked you to come."  
  
Veronica sighed. "I'll be happy to help in such a worthy cause. But, what is all this stuff?"  
  
Looking a little sheepish, Roxton said, "I didn't know quite know what I was doing, so I gathered all the colorful plants I could find and hoped that by combining them, I could make the purple dye I'm looking for."  
  
Veronica walked over to the fire and stirred the pot. She scooped up the contents and sniffed the fragrant steam. "Well, you've managed to make a pretty passable vegetable soup."  
  
Dejected, Roxton sat down on a fallen log and rested his chin on his fist. "Yes, and before that I made an orange colored, fizzy cider, and before that I made some black goop that I'm pretty sure will make an excellent boot polish."  
  
Veronica laughed. "I think you're trying too hard."  
  
She walked around the pile of vegetation tapping her finger on her chin. Then she stopped, dived into the pile and came up brandishing an ugly plant studded with even uglier berries. "These should do the trick. Its juice is a deep purple."  
  
"Really?" Roxton said cheering up immediately. "Do you think these berries will be the right shade? You do remember what an exquisite color that blouse was, don't you?"  
  
Veronica rolled her eyes again at his obsession. "Lavender, right?"  
  
"Exactly," he beamed at her. "It's so good of you to help, Veronica. I'm a very lucky man to have a friend like you."  
  
Veronica smiled as she scooped a bucket of water from the stream and placed it over the fire. "And Marguerite is a VERY lucky woman," she whispered.  
  
-Curtain closes- 


End file.
